The tune is performed by the salsa group Los Van Van, which was born in Cuba like Morales, and it has engendered his nickname, "Bam Bam."

The song's title, which translates into, "Excuse me, Van Van has arrived," serves as a metaphor for his baseball standing. After three years of bouncing between the majors and minors and five years after defecting from Cuba on his 12th attempt, Morales has arrived.

The switch-hitting slugger helped power the Angels' run to a fifth American League West title in six years, surprising much of baseball by leading the club in home runs (34) and RBI (108) while batting .306. He was considered an MVP candidate until he slowed in September.

"He's definitely exceeded expectations of what I thought he was going to do," Angels ace John Lackey says. "I was thinking 15-20 homers, 80 RBI."

By setting career highs in every meaningful hitting category, Morales filled the void left when Mark Teixeira signed as a free agent with the New York Yankees for eight years and $180 million.

"Everybody talked about how Teixeira left to go to the Yankees, but with the numbers he has put up, he has been this year's Teixeira for them," says third baseman Mike Lowell of the Boston Red Sox, who face the Angels in an AL Division Series for the third year in a row beginning today.

As he enters the caldron of October baseball as a starter for the first time, Morales, 26, has completed the difficult transition from young star in Cuba's powerhouse amateur teams to big-time producer in the majors.

His adjustment to American culture, especially the language, remains a work in progress.

"Getting used to the lifestyle here has been the toughest part, because it's so different from Cuba," Morales says in Spanish. "Baseball's the same. You have to swing at strikes. But when I first got here (after defecting in June 2004), everything was so jarring. It wasn't my way of life. It wasn't my language. It wasn't my people. But I'm used to it now."

Well, mostly.

Not a name from 'Flintstones'

Morales still is hesitant to speak English, and his communication with non-Spanish-speaking teammates, though friendly, is limited. He doesn't understand why fans show up with signs referring to Bam-Bam — he thinks it's a misspelling — because The Flintstones was not shown on TV in Cuba. (The cartoon character's name actually was Bamm-Bamm.)

When not playing winter ball in the Dominican Republic, Morales makes his offseason home in Miami, where Spanish-speaking friends are readily available.

One of them is Kansas City Royals catcher Brayan Pena, who has known Morales since they played youth baseball in Cuba around age 10 and was his teammate the last four winters.

Pena is familiar with Morales' uninhibited side and remarks on his humility, pointing to a lunch together with two other friends when Morales insisted on picking up the tab, only to discover later his friends had taken care of it.

"The next day he showed up in the house of each of us guys and brought us a nice present," recalled Pena, who defected in 2000. "He said we shouldn't have paid the check."

Their paths might not have crossed again had Morales been allowed to simply play ball. But after becoming suspicious that he planned to defect, Cuban officials sent him home from a tournament in Panama in 2003 and banned him from the game.

Determined to get on the field again, Morales says he tried to escape 12 times, usually failing because of rough seas. Thrice he was caught, spending a mandatory 72 hours in jail each time.

"I would always tell them I was going to leave sooner or later," Morales says.

Why was he so determined?

"Because they wouldn't let me play baseball in Cuba."

On June 8, 2004, 12 days short of turning 21, Morales finally made it out on a rowboat that took him and other passengers to a larger boat, which carried them to Florida.

As opposed to other Cuban players who were driven by a desire to test their skills in the majors, Morales says he would have been happy to stay with the Industriales team in Havana. He had been the rookie of the year in the island's Serie Nacional (the Cuban league) in 2001-02 and promptly established himself as a fixture on the national team.

"I never thought of playing (in the majors), but once I had that problem there, I tried to get here," says Morales, one of eight Cuban-born players in the majors this season. "It wasn't even in my mind before. I had my life pretty much made in Cuba."

Morales, an only child who lost his father at age 8, was later rejoined stateside by his mother and his girlfriend, Yarley Pereira, who now is his wife. They have a 17-month-old daughter, Hanely, and are expecting a son in December. Morales also has a 6-year-old daughter, Andrea, who remains in Cuba with her mother.

Taking his show to America

Morales' indoctrination into American baseball began the day of his minor league debut with Class A Rancho Cucamonga (Calif.) in 2005, a few months after the Angels signed him to a six-year, $4.5 million contract that included a $3 million bonus.

Scouting director Eddie Bane, who established a quick rapport with the slugger, remembers Morales' reaction when he homered in his first pro at-bat.

"He threw the bat down on top of home plate, stood there and watched it, then took a big circle around the bases with his arm up in the air. I thought, 'Oh-oh,' " Bane says. "After the game, the other guys said, 'Hey, man, that's not the way the Angels do things.'

"Kendry explained to us when they play a game in Cuba, it's a show."

Morales toned down his act but still put on a show in the minors, hitting .332 with 55 home runs over parts of four seasons. More advanced players such as Casey Kotchman (now with Boston) and later Teixeira, plus his own shaky fielding, stood in his way. Morales had to smooth out his rough edges — coaches jokingly called him "Brick Hands" — after playing the outfield and infield corners in Cuba.

Plus, the Angels wanted to give him time to develop and adjust.

"The game is definitely different. The culture is different," general manager Tony Reagins says. "So a player at that age needs to spend time in the minor leagues."

Morales' talent has flourished with the chance to play daily, without the fear that a couple of bad games might get him sent back to the bench or the minors.

His fielding, while still not on the same level as a Gold Glover such as Teixeira, has improved to the point where first-base coach Alfredo Griffin, who works with the infielders, says Morales can scoop balls in the dirt with the best in the league.

Before his September slide, which manager Mike Scioscia attributed to expanding his strike zone, Morales hit at least .273 in every month, topped by a huge August — .385, 10 homers and a team-record 33 RBI — that earned him AL player of the month honors.

"He doesn't wait 10 at-bats to make an adjustment. He makes it the next at-bat," Hunter says. "You rarely see a first-year guy make adjustments like that."

Now comes the chance to perform on baseball's biggest stage, which requires adjusting to the attention and intensity. Angels broadcaster Jose Mota, who often serves as Morales' interpreter, expects him to handle it well.

Mota recalls a conversation he had during the World Baseball Classic in March with Cuban national coach Higinio Velez, who coached Morales for nearly three years. Velez told Mota his players go through psychological screening to make sure they don't wilt under pressure.

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